


Brushed Skin, Held Breath, Tight Laced.

by Adeline_Hatter



Series: Friends to Enemies to Lovers is Very Very Sexy [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Brief References to Missy, Clothing, F/M, Getting Dressed, Oscar Wilde mentions, Probably the closest I will get to writing smut, Specifically Victorian around 1872, The Master helps The Doctor get into period clothing, The Thoschei Rights server made me do it, There's barely a plot, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Victorian Attitudes, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22859350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Hatter/pseuds/Adeline_Hatter
Summary: On a jaunt to 1871 to see Oscar Wilde in Dublin, the Master points out how unfair it is that the Doctor always makes the companions dress appropriately, whilst never changing herself.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: Friends to Enemies to Lovers is Very Very Sexy [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609696
Comments: 10
Kudos: 192





	Brushed Skin, Held Breath, Tight Laced.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is

The Doctor watches him as he runs his fingers over clothing in the wardrobe, wondering why he was here really, why she’d let him stay upon his return from the Kassavin’s dimension, more so when he looked so excited at the prospect of heading to Victorian Dublin just like she was internally to go.

She had gone to step out of the TARDIS when he’d placed an arm in front of her, looked her up and down and declared that she simply wouldn’t do in polite society. 

“We have to preserve the timeline don’t we?” The Master had offered and then, looked around at her fam, “She makes you get dressed up to preserve it and then never changes herself, honestly it’s like you’ve taken a hammer to time.” 

She’d practically bristled but kept her emotions in check enough that all that came out was a look, well, more of a glare before the companions all voiced agreements, Yaz in particular standing up from where she’d been sitting on the floor to say that whilst she hated to agree with the Master, he did have a point. 

That, was how she found herself in a soft cotton chemise, split draws and stocking placed to the side as the Master dug through her wardrobe.

“I can pick my own clothing-”   
  
“It won’t match.” He waved her off, dismissively and she felt the ire raise in her, before his head appeared out of the dresses towards the back, “Not that you don’t have good fashion sense… You just look like you walked out of an off-brand charity shop most of the time.”   
  
The Doctor glared as boots hit the ground in front of her, “Tell that to your beards, oh and your fondness for capes, not to mention you usually walk around in some ridiculous shoe.” 

His lips quirked, “Yet, you kept my heels and if I’m right- I usually am -you, dear Doctor, are the same size as my previous body.” Eyes moved to stare pointedly at the boots in front of her, “Sentimentality?”

She doesn’t answer, just moves towards where the stockings are to put them on, but hands grab them from her as he bends down on his knees and raises her foot up, stocking in one hand, “I can do that myself-”   
  
“Can you?” 

He was having too much fun with this, fingers tight on her heel as she sat down on a chair to avoid falling over and he started to roll the stocking down her leg, “You are only doing this because you want to see me uncomfortable-”   
  
“You had no trouble getting dressed for the right periods as a man.” The Master offered softly, as he finished one, brushing his thumb where the stocking ended along her thigh and she buried the shiver as he moved to do the other one, “This is just like then, only it’s a bit more complicated, love.”   
  


The Master raises his gaze as he finishes the other stocking, picking up the ribbons that would make sure they stayed put on her, tying them tightly but not uncomfortably, she meets it steadily, then he throws the split draws at her and she pulls them on.

“I just had to wear a suit as a man.” She tilts her head at him, following him as he stands and realising that _yes_ he’s just a tad taller than her now, “Why can’t I as a woman?”

He shrugs, “Women in this period didn’t typically wear suits to balls, it was seen as radical and we’re supposed to be doing _subtle.”_ His voice drops and so does something in her brain. 

“I don’t like subtle things.” 

“But you do like Oscar Wilde and you wanted to attend this party.” He points it out and he’s right, it’s infuriating, the Master steps away and holds up the corset, “Besides, I don’t think Yaz would survive if you did wear an ascot, now, if you please…?”

Begrudgingly, the Doctor steps forwards and wraps the corset around herself, he lets her do the latches up, hooking each one securely as he steps around her to the back, “Do I need to brace myself on something?”

“Only if you want it too tight, love.” He whispers it and she feels his breathing on her neck as he leans over it, then he starts to tug at the laces, “You are so slim in this body, you are almost always a walking stick figure these days.” 

His fingers plucked at the laces, every now and again she felt his fingertip press against her back through the cotton fabric as he adjusted them slowly into place, into comfortable positions, pulling them a little tighter as he went. 

The Doctor fought not to notice how warm his fingertips were, but ultimately lost in the battle for the attention being sort out, she ignored his stick figure commentary and instead focused on the wall in front of her when- 

She groaned a little bit as the laces pulled too tightly and he eased up almost immediately, but she could just _sense_ the smug smile settling on his lips because of the sound, “Too tight? It’s still too loose, I am going to have to pull it tighter.” 

“Just get it over with- ah.” She clapped a hand over her mouth as he pulled on the laces again before he started to walk around her, coming to face her front with the laces as he tied them off there, stood still, his fingers double checked the knot and the Doctor ignored the flush that was settling on her own skin as she felt how warm he was, just from where he was standing. 

She keeps her gaze firmly on his nose, refusing to look anywhere else as he stepped back and started down into the long run of clothes within her wardrobe once again.

“This place is a mess.” He calls and it echoes a little bit, she can’t deny it really, it’s always been a mess.

She takes a deep breath and ponders, briefly why this was having an effect on her again… She’d thought this over with Missy in particular, the tension and the way they both seemed to gravitate towards the other. 

Her thinking is interrupted when he emerges with a beautiful gown, dark blue in a way that matches her TARDIS and she wonders how long she’s had it. 

“I’m not a child, I can put the dress on myself.” 

He hums, “What about the crinolette? Or the petticoats, we’re going to give you a silhouette.” 

“What if I don’t want one?”

“Then we won’t, but you’ll be out of place again.” He places the gown down, two parts, the skirt is seperate from the bodice, blue lace ruffled along the neckline and skirt hem, “But. You want to meet Oscar Wilde and whilst he’d probably be delighted at your lack of decorum, we are looking for someone trying to kill him.” 

Whilst he talks, he pulls the aforementioned items over her head and gets them settled before he picks up the boots, getting to his knees again, pushing her foot up off the ground to pull the right one on to her. 

“Perfect fit…” He murmurs, pulling on their laces a bit as she stands on it a little unsteady and when he moves to the left she wobbles and ends with a hand on his shoulder, that shocks him into looking up at her, warm hand wrapped around her foot, eyes drifting upwards to her gaze and…

His eye lashes were exceedingly long and shielded the brown of his eyes this time around beautifully as she braced herself on him and he pulled her left boot on her. 

Her lips feel a little dry, so she licks them and ignores how he seems to track the movement. 

Ignores the other shiver that runs through her, as she digs her nails just a little into his shoulder and he doesn’t even jolt, just keeps his gaze steady as he finishes tying up the boot and sets her foot back down on the floor, his hands linger on her ankles, before lifting and moving away from her again. 

She takes another deep breath, ignoring the pulse that thrums down her spine, watching him as he picks up the petticoat, “Just one?” She jokes, finding her voice and watches him intently as he moves and pulls it over her head. 

“I thought I’d start you out on easy.” There’s a lilt in his voice that tugs on her face, twists it really, making her pause before responding as she stares at him, her gaze flickering over his face by its own volition, “Just one for now, maybe more next time.”

His hands scoop up her skirt, pulling it over her head too and pulling it tight, before sliding his hand into a pocket, “You remembered I like pockets.” 

“You always have.” It’s quiet, as his hands land on her waist, she can only just feel them through the layers and her hearts thrum easily with a hum in time with his, “They are very useful things…” His hands slip away from her waist and pick up the bodice, off the shoulder and she pulls it on, he leaves her to do tha buttons up on the front. 

Then he comes in and tidies them up, “Are we done?” The Doctor asks, as he takes smooth steps around her and her dress brushes the floor, the heels on her feet biting just a little bit so she shifts and it all shifts with her in a smooth motion. 

His smile is wicked as he shakes his head and sits her down in front of the mirror, fetching a hairbrush and pulling it through her hair in quick motions, before sliding his fingers in to pull it tightly back, finding the point he know longer could and twisting it tight against her head, it pinches her skin in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“Don’t tell me, make up too?” She drowns and knows within a moment of saying it that yes, actually, it was that next, “Why does this require so much primping?” 

The Master actually shrugs, “No one knows really, the rich wanted to look sophisticated.” 

“I look like an idiot.” 

He hums, “A bonus.” then he tugs on her hair again and she catches her lip between her teeth, once again choosing not to acknowledge the little pulse of enjoyment that runs through her, “You look nice though.” 

She glares at him through the mirror, before he leaves her hair pinned in place, moving around to her face and pinching at her cheeks, before he pauses and steps back, eyes averting from her entirely, “What?” She asks and his lips open before closing again.

“I didn’t notice the neckline… I’m gonna find you a different dress-” 

“I’m not going through all of that again!” She stands up, a few pieces of her hair coming to frame her face, “What does my neckline have to do with changing my dress?”   
  


The Doctor, realises a beat later when she looks in the mirror, as her full collarbone comes into view, his hand comes to rest over his mouth as she tilts her head at herself and feels the indignant annoyance climb into her mind. 

“Gallifrey is gone.” She hisses, glaring at him in full force, “You cannot tell me that stupid thing about our _necks_ still gets you?” 

But he doesn’t look at her and she laughs, genuinely at him and his misfortune, “Stop laughing-” He starts, turning towards her and she looks at him in the eyes. 

His fingers swoop the hair away from her face, and she keeps looking into his eyes, even as his fingers pause, hesitating just once before smoothing down the side of her neck, hooking into the juncture between here her jaw ended and her neck began.

The Master is silent as he traces his hands along the lines of her collarbone, soft and feather light before he presses hard in one spot and tilts her head up, he pulls something from his pocket. 

She stares into eyes, thinking about how they could swallow the universe whole as he ties something around her neck, pulling it tight just enough that her breathing stalls for a moment before loosening it just a bit, tying it securely. 

His eyes never leave hers as he tilts towards her, hands still moving over her edges with soft, but impressionate movements. 

Her gaze flickers down to his lips again and she wonders, quite briefly, for perhaps the first time in this body, how long it would take to get dressed again. 

The Doctor considers leaning forwards and closing that gap when someone knocks on the door and she steps away to walk towards it, leaving him standing there, knowing he looks just a little disappointed. 

Fingers, curl around her wrist and turn her around as another knock sounds on the door and she finds her head tilted as he leans down and presses- what she is not willing to admit as such -a promise. 

Sealed with a kiss, hard and almost biting, her lips part but no sound escapes her as she tilts her head back. 

Then he’s gone, marching back through her wardrobe, her eyes following him as she takes a deep breath, just once before she opens the door to walk away. 

She presses her hand to the spot he’d kissed absentmindedly and wonders… Just _wonders_ if he really had meant it as a promise of things to come. 


End file.
